Of the long-range ships, as he drew near, he found one after another damaged by the upheaval of the land.

In the shelter of one he paused and rested, and that was when he saw it, spiky black arms cutting through the dust. A Shadow ship. It looked intact.

He glided toward it, its dark silhouette growing. If they could join with it, as they had with the Eye, perhaps it would take them where they needed to go.

The huge ship towered over him, its skin a brilliant, glittering black. A circular opening on its underside gaped large and dark.

With regret they left the open spaces behind and entered. As Galen thought to conjure a light globe, one appeared overhead. He was in a small, unornamented chamber.

When he'd been joined with Anna, he'd gained an impression of the machine, her body. He felt almost as if he knew the ship, its curved, glistening walls, its intricate systems, its bones, its blood. He went to the heart of the machine. There, a rectangular receptacle the size of a coffin. It was filled with a gelatinous black matter, like that which had extruded from the wall on Thenothk to encase Anna. As he shifted the light globe above it, he could see the shadow of something within. Something humanoid. Something enslaved. He reached into the warm jelly, and his arms closed about the form. He did not have the strength to pull it out.

A platform pushed up beneath the form, and she rose out of the muck. Though her long blond hair was matted to her head, and her pink dress discolored, he recognized her. Bunny Oliver, the telepath who had aided Elizar in so much chaos and death.

She made a choking gasp and began to cough, hacking up black globs. After a few moments, her breathing calmed, and she lay still.